


the run and go

by giraffingallday



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff, M/M, Matteo has depression, comma abuse bc im gay and love dramatic pauses, im way too lazy to list all the characters that might show up here these two have too many friends, no burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-03-06 10:04:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18848830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffingallday/pseuds/giraffingallday
Summary: Matteo hits David's car.Obviously they fall in love.





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> the last time i was this obsessed w a character i wrote isak as a semi self insert character, now im older n wiser so heres matteo as a FULL self insert character
> 
> this is gonna have pretty short chapters bc im lazy and also most of this WILL be written high but thats just how i am

Oh motherfucker. Matteo would like it to remain on record that he never wanted to learn to drive in the first place. Jonas – the fucking traitor – had mentioned how _valuable_ the skill was once with Hans in the room, but once was enough and his cheerfully self-appointed ‘life guide’ has insisted on passing his knowledge of the skill onto sweet, precious, Matteo.

So, he learned to drive. And he got his license. _And_ he managed to convince Hans to let him borrow his car (his new _baby_ , he loves the thing more than he loves Matteo – and that’s saying something) so he could get a greasy McDonald’s breakfast sandwich at three o’clock in the morning because he stayed up all night smoking his brains out.

Except there was no breakfast sandwich in his hand, and the lady who told him to pull up to the next window (the window with his _sandwich_ ) failed to mention that he should check if there were other cars in front of him before doing so. Spoiler alert: there was a car.

It was barely a tap, there isn’t much room to pick up speed between drive-thru windows, but he hit someone’s car and _fuck_ he just _hit someone’s fucking car_. The guy immediately lays on the horn and Matteo felt like he was dropped into a cold pool of guilt; it washes over him in a wave that leaves him drenched with it and he drops his head against the steering wheel, honking the horn with his forehead as a result.

It jolts him back up, just in time to see the guy he hit storming over. He was… angry. Matteo’s brain offered a couple more favorable options and he was quick to will them away. Not the time for his decidedly-not-gay crisis to rear its head.

He’s brought back to Earth when the raging face he’d been practically _gazing_ at was at his window and tapping harsh on the glass. Matteo rolled down his window. He flushed, anxiety kicking up, when he remembered why this was happening.

“What the fuck? You hit my car and honk at me?” The guy had a nice voice. An angry voice, let’s focus on relevant facts, Matteo.

“ _Shit_. Sorry.”

“ _Shit sorry._ ” He mocked Matteo’s voice, low pitched and kind of droopy how it was most the time, made worse from smoking. It made his stomach clench and his cheeks heat up. Stupid. “You hit my car and the best you can say is ‘sorry’? Are you high or something?”

Matteo’s exhale came as a heavy sigh and he knocked his head back against his seat, “Yes.”

“Wait, seriously?” The stranger’s tone leveled out a bit with the question, wound down a little.

“Ja? I’m at McDonald’s at three o’clock.” Obviously.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Matteo tried to think of a name for the other while he scolded him, _Ben, Noah, Henry, Luka-_ “Seriously. Go park your car.”

So he did, because he was high, and because it meant he got to follow… _Elias? No._ into McDonald’s, where they quietly got their orders before sitting in the far corner.

It was weird how quiet they had become. Matteo didn’t like long stretches of silence; there was too much room for thinking. About why he actually parked, and what he would have to scrape together to pay for any damage, and why he chewed so loud but _god_ this sandwich _was_ good. But yeah. The quiet was getting to him. “Why did you make me park?”

“We’re gonna sit here until you’re sober enough to drive.” There was such finality to it that Matteo just nodded and slouched back into the metal chair.

“I’m David.” And _oh._ _David._ Now he had a name.

“Matteo.” David ( _David David David_ ) gave a little smile, and _wow_. Matteo was gonna have to retake that gay test again when he got home.

“I’d say nice to meet you but considering the circumstances…” David shrugged, pushed the coffee he’d been nursing towards Matteo, “Have some; it’ll help wake you up.”

Matteo wrinkles his nose but takes a sip; he can’t stop the _gack_ -sound he makes when it’s black. He grimaced, “I don’t like coffee.”

David laughs a little and shakes his head, “Then why would you drink it?”

Matteo doesn’t know how to explain that _because you told me to_ is a good reason so instead he just shrugs and goes back to his sandwich. He can feel David staring.

“You look really fucked.” There’s an inch of concern there, but it’s pretty easy to believe that he’s making it up.

“Yeah.” It’s not really a reply but Matteo isn’t really in the mood to talk about how he looks. He’s just like that most of the time.

David opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens again, and closes. Then he smiles, but bites it back like he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s smiling.

“Come on.” Matteo watches, blinking slowly, while David hops up and walks to the door. It takes about five seconds, “Matteo. Come on.”

Hearing David say his name shouldn’t feel so monumental but does it ever. Matteo huffs a sigh and starts over. He’s slow, and lazy, and David is looking impatient by the time he gets over there. But he gets there so, that’s something.

“Where are we going?” Matteo asks, a little too late because he’s already outside with a stranger in the middle of the night.

“They played really shitty music.” David says instead of giving an answer; it’s true so Matteo snorts. “I’m driving you home.”

Disappointed that whatever this is is ending so soon, Matteo makes a face, he spares a glance to David but reading other people is too much work. “You don’t know where I live.”

David’s smile is so distracting Matteo almost loses balance when he knocks their shoulder’s together, “Good thing you’re going to tell me then, right?”

“Am I?”Matteo smiles, a little but still, David raises his eyebrows with a grin at the challenge.

“I hope so; otherwise I’ll have to take you to my shitty apartment. And my sister lives there. And our couch is really uncomfortable.” Matteo really _really_ wants to know exactly how uncomfortable that couch is.

“What about Hans’ car?”

“Who’s car?”

“My roommate’s.”

“Oh wow, you crashed your roommate’s car?” David almost sounds impressed; it’s a little annoying but Matteo smiles despite it.

“Yeah, you were there.”

David laughs at that, loud now that they weren’t inside. “I’ll come back tomorrow and you can pick it up.”

“You don’t have to.” It felt like too much to take from someone; there was an ugly feeling that came over Matteo whenever he felt any less than convenient.

“Maybe I want to.”

Matteo stews over that for a moment, only one solution comes up when he tries to save David from any extra work, “I could just… sleep on your couch. To save you the trip.” He can’t bring himself to look up when he says it, stares hard at his feet until David replies.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

When they get to David’s apartment Matteo can feel the crash hitting – he stumbles on the stairs heading up, David caught him before he could fall – he groaned when he hit the couch, “You lied to me.” Is grumbled out before he can think it over.

David hums through a chuckle, “Did I?”

Matteo nods, pulls the blanket he’d been given up to his nose and burrows, “Nice couch.”

David laughs again, stifles it quickly when it hits the walls, “Get some sleep.” His hand dropped like an afterthought to ruffle Matteo’s hair. He tried to imagine how David would react if he grabbed his hand and kept it there; the scared part of him never predicted a happy ending.

Before he could fully consider the idea, David’s hand was gone, and so was David; and the room grew stagnant save for the rise and fall of Matteo’s chest. He laid quietly for hours; when the sun began peeking through the window, lighting up the little details he’d been committing to memory, he rolled over and finally let himself pass out.


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> david drives matteo home
> 
> like thats not poetic thats literally all that happens its short chapters folks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow chapter two! pretty neat, huh?

The problem Matteo finds with staying up late, is that morning comes around a lot faster. He felt like he’d just closed his eyes when a sharp crash followed by hurried shushing wakes him up. Someone must’ve been in the kitchen. It goes quiet again, and Matteo’s eyelids droop, curling deeper into the pillow he’d borrowed when a girl pokes her head into the room, catching his eye. Her expression catches him off guard, like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t allowed, but he doesn’t get to say anything before she’s rushing off.

There’s a flurry of whispers just out of earshot before David is coming in, leaning against the door frame with a mug in his hands. Matteo can smell coffee across the tiny stretch of room and he makes a face, “Morning.”

“Good morning.” David’s voice is softer in the mornings, Matteo notices, or maybe that’s just how he sounds when he wasn’t raging from getting rear-ended by a dumb stoner. “Did you sleep alright?”

Matteo shrugs and nods, which isn’t an answer, and tuck his legs back so David has space when he sits down on the edge of the couch. David responds by fidgeting absently with the blanket that’s draped over Matteo’s legs and tucking it over the place where Matteo’s toes were peaking out the side.

“My sister is making breakfast.” His hand lingers where it had ghosted over Matteo’s feet, like he didn’t want to pull away, or wasn’t sure if he should, “Sorry if she woke you up.”

“It’s okay.” He wasn’t much of a sleeper to begin with, most of his rest came in the form of hazy dozing, and he did need to go home at some point today so he could stop pretending that David was anything more than a stranger with a strong moral compass.

A silence grew over them as David sipped his coffee, Matteo deflated into the cushions, his eyelids heavy against his instance to keep his gaze on David, who noticed, and smoothed a hand over Matteo’s calf like that was something people just did. He watched while David settled against the couch and turned on a TV Matteo hadn’t even realized was there, “You can sleep more, if you want.”

It was so inviting, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been so comfortable in his life, but Hans had work that night and Matteo needed to bring him his car. He shuffled so he was propped up against the armrest and rubbed a hand over his face, then tried desperately not to sound disappointed when he said, “I should go home soon.”

David nodded, took a long drink of his coffee, and set it on the end table, “I’ll get dressed.” Then he left. Suddenly Matteo didn’t feel so pressed to get home.

As he was getting into the car, he stole a glance at the way David was grinning like a cheeseball after opening Matteo’s door for him and thought, maybe, it would be okay if he just liked _David_. They’d never see each other again, so it doesn’t really count, right?

Matteo stares at him the whole drive. He knows David knows, but there was just this drive home left, and so he could embarrass himself if he wanted.

They stop at a red light and David glances at him, darts his eyes back to the road quickly like he’s worried, then forces a smile, “Is there something on my face?”

Matteo blinks, his eyes are dry so it hurts and he blinks a couple more times to sort it out. When he opens his eyes properly again he notices an eyelash, resting carefully on the curve where David’s cheek met his eye, “Mhm.” He reaches over, feeling miraculously bold for doing so, and picks up the eyelash even as David flinches back in confusion. He holds it out for him, “You get to make a wish now, right?”

David laughs, and the light changes so Matteo moves back with the motion of the car, taking care to not drop David’s wish, “It’s just an eyelash.” He’s got an amused little smile building, like Matteo’s being _charming_ instead of dorky, but he always makes wishes (once, when he was young and being with his parents still felt how it was supposed to, the three of them spent hours at the park, plucking every dandelion and blowing hard to make sure the stem was left bare and their wishes were _sure_ to come true).

David catches his look of disappointment and sighs, “You can have my wish.”

“Cool.” Matteo lifts the eyelash close to his face, waits for his eyes to focus in on it then closes them. After a moment of thought, he blows and opens his eyes, satisfaction comes over his expression when the eyelash is gone.

“What did you wish for?” They’re pulling up beside Hans’ car now, and he flushes.

“If I tell you, then I don’t get my wish.”

David tilts his head to the side, squinting at Matteo as though he was trying to read his mind, “Do you go to McDonald’s a lot?”

The sudden change of topic is jarring, so Matteo doesn’t think to do much but answer, “Yes.”

“Give me your phone.” Matteo does. Then David taps away until something sends and the phone in the cup holder between them vibrates, “Now you have my number. So you don’t go driving when you shouldn’t.” He smiles, and Matteo wants to catch it in his palms like a firefly, feel it beat around in his hands and watch his skin glow.

“Okay.”

“Text me.”

“I will.”

Matteo gets out of the car, phone clutched tight in his palm, and David drives away. Getting into Hans’ car and driving home felt a lot like taking off your helmet in space.

When he got home he checked his phone before going in, a waiting message from an unknown number made his heart race.

_unknown: I’m going to guess your wish._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed and im SO genuinely touched by the positive response so far, especially since this is really just a self service fic i write while im sad n high


	3. chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you always tired like this or do you save it special for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> human brain: matteo has friends and roommates who he spends time with  
> monkey brain: d a v i d
> 
> no i dont proofread

“Matteo.” Hans’ voice was even and curt, he sounded like a disappointed mother, “What did you do to my car.” They both stood in the parking lot, looking down at the small scratch in the car’s paint. You honestly couldn’t even tell it was there, but Matteo’s posture sagged in a sulk at Hans’ scolding tone despite it.

“It wasn’t on purpose.” There was a ball of worry lodging itself into Matteo’s throat, he didn’t want to _talk_ about this, it was real and had consequences, nothing good was ever both of those things at once.

Hans dropped to his knees, a trembling hand falling over the mark. Matteo scoffed, “I’ll pay to fix it, okay?” He didn’t have the money, or know where he’d get it, but he’d figure it out if it meant Hans went back to his usual overbearing self.

“I don’t want money, Matteo, I want the _truth_.” Honestly, if Matteo could understand what Hans was going on about at least half the time, that would really help out.

“I told you what happened, I hit a curb.” No, he did not. But if he mentioned David god knows where that will lead. This was a safer option.

The safer option, however, was not enough to fool Hans, who had somehow been gifted this magical ability to just _read_ people. Sometimes that made him go too far, and he’d push people towards something they weren’t ready for, but it was in good heart so, that counted for something. “Curbs aren’t that tall, it isn’t even a good lie. Just tell me.” He sat up on the edge of the sidewalk so Matteo joined him, tried not to fidget.

“I hit someone’s car. In the drive-thru.”

“In the drive-thru?” Hans could not have sounded more disappointed. Jesus.

“Yeah, Christ, I just wasn’t paying attention.” He ran his fingers through his hair, letting them catch and pull on the knots. He needed a shower.

“Were they angry? You’re not insured! Matteo, did you give them your name?” Hans was one hundred miles an hour, Matteo’s whole face scrunched up in his efforts to follow him.

“He was angry; I told him I don’t have insurance. It was fine.” He spared a glance to the car, “It’s hardly a mark anyway. David said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Hans perked up and Matteo cursed himself; you could hardly get a word out of him, yet every time he talked his foot went straight for his mouth, “ _David_?” He sounded too eager, all feigned nonchalance, it made Matteo deflate.

“Mhm. He got mad at me for driving high, so I slept it off at his place. It’s whatever.” He stood, trying his best to look like he had to leave. He did, in a sense, his phone was upstairs, “I gotta go.”

A mousy squint was turned his way, Hans looking him up and down, all that transparent judgment squeezing Matteo’s gut in a tight fist, “Don’t go to strangers’ places. It’s dangerous.”

“He’s not anymore, and hindsight is twenty-twenty.” He shot Hans a finger gun and twisted on his heel to start back inside, shrugged and kept on going when Hans called after him.

“That’s not what that’s supposed to mean!”

Upstairs, he still hadn’t gotten a message back from David. He had sent the dumbest message he could’ve come up with _whats your first guess?_ And then had the audacity to get cranky over radio silence. But he had to live with that now, he sent what he sent.

Bored and impatient, he rolled a joint, smoked it, and stared at his ceiling fan for the rest of the day.

He got a couple of messages from the boys, turned down their request for plans about as gently as he did any other time, and stayed in bed. He took a new gay test, didn’t know how he felt when _You Are Gay_ stared back at him. What did some stupid internet quiz know about him anyway? And he thought about David.

He’d have to stay home that night, couldn’t expect David to go out late every night, so he tried not to get too high, that kind of high where you can’t even pass out without spending some energy first. Just after midnight, he got a message.

_david: its hard to guess, cant you just tell me? :(_

_matteo: no :)_

_david: ass_

It was easy as breathing, talking to David, there weren’t any pretenses, no expectations about who he was. It was so damn scary.

_david: did you wish for a sandwich?_

_matteo: nope_

_matteo: kinda wish i did, i never buy groceries_

David called him.

“Matteo?” His voice rang clear through the speaker, washed over Matteo like a heat lamp and he sunk down in his chair, head rocking back.

“David.”

David sighed, but it wasn’t heavy, “You want me to pick you up?”

Yes. Desperately. Pathetically. “It’s okay. I can’t eat McDonald’s every day.”

“We can just…” David paused, there was anxiety in his voice, but he went ahead and said it anyway, “Drive around, it helps me sleep.”

And well, now it was good for David. That meant he was allowed, that he wasn’t being an inconvenience, he was just going for the ride, “Okay, cool.”

There was a pause, “Um, I actually-” David sounded nervous for once, it rose goosebumps on Matteo’s arms, “I was already driving and I thought ‘maybe Matteo would like to join me’ so uh, I’m outside.”

Matteo’s eyes shut tight, a laugh breaking through the expression, “What?”

David laughed back, a lovely embarrassed sound fluttering out, “Come downstairs!”

“Okay okay.” Matteo hung up, pulled on the nearest sweater to add to the two he already was wearing, and went out.

He hadn’t realized before, how much David’s car smelled like _David_. He sighed; falling back against the seat as soon as he got in and wishing it had arms to hold him. David was looking at him, eyes warm, “Na?”

Matteo hummed, he was so tired.

“Are you always tired like this or do you save it special for me?” It was close enough to something snarky Hans would say that it would’ve put a bad taste in his mouth if David hadn’t sounded so amused.

“Special for you.” Matteo pitched his voice up a little, batting weighted eyelids in David’s direction, he laughed and looked away, started to drive. The hum of the engine loosened every muscle in Matteo’s body. It was so nice to be around someone you didn’t have to be _somebody_ for.

When he shifted so he was faced more towards David, his hand fell heavy on the space between their seats and David looked over at him. Matteo had to swallow at the way David’s hands flexed against the steering wheel, “I brought you something to eat.” He sounded shy about it and Matteo’s chest swelled.

“Where?” He couldn’t remember the last time he ate something other than take-out (he needed to start cooking again), god, his mouth watered at the thought.

David reached back behind Matteo’s seat (his jawline was sharp enough to cut when he turned his head to look) and pulled up a small container, “It’s just a sandwich.”

Matteo had tunnel vision immediately, grabbing greedily at the container, “Thanks.” The bread was fresh, homemade if he had to guess, and the sandwich had lettuce on it (a vegetable, did he remember what those tasted like?). He ate it like he was starving, kinda felt like he was. David didn’t seem to mind. “It’s really good.”

There was a tinge of color to David’s cheeks at that, “I made the bread, my sister is teaching me.” Matteo’s suddenly struck with it, David _made_ him food. He kneaded the bread, waited for it to rise, baked it until it was golden and fluffy, all himself. It was stupid how excited he felt that David had been getting up for a ride and thought, maybe Matteo would like to come, and then, maybe he’ll be hungry.

“Could you teach me?” Matteo didn’t always mind when he spoke before he thought, not when David’s face seemed to light up at the suggestion.

The corner of his mouth quirked up when David glanced over at him, “It’s a date.” Stuck focusing on the road, David must’ve darted his eyes to Matteo ten times, clearly trying to gauge his reaction.

The thing was, it would be, wouldn’t it? He and David, baking, and talking, and probably getting shit everywhere; that would be a date. Matteo wasn’t a very good liar, he knew what things meant to him most of the time. He tried not to think about why he wouldn’t want this, it would show itself eventually, when he was alone and vulnerable, so for now he smiled, ducked his head in a nod, “Cool.”

It was. It was cool.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if ur still here ur braver than any us marine, thank u for ur service!


	4. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i KNOW this is really short but i have to wash my floors so im very busy
> 
> anyway coming out when u have depression is so annoying but matteos gonna do it n im proud of him

Matteo makes plans with Jonas, just the two of them, because it feels like it’s about time he says that scary sentence that’s been slinking through his brain. And if it gets too scary, he can say he just missed when they hung out one-on-one, an easy out.

“Sup.” Jonas greets him easy with a fist bump, already has their food so they can just walk, easy conversation flowing while Jonas catches him up on the world outside his bedroom. Jonas has never seemed to mind (was part of the reason he fell so stupidly in love with him in the first place) that Matteo has never been _much_. Just Matteo, who always has weed, and doesn’t talk much, and never goes out unless he’s with his brudis.

Jonas is just finishing up the news of Abdi’s progression (or lack thereof) with his crush on Sam, when all the emotions he’d been stewing over ball up and roll out of his mouth like vomit, “I think I met someone.” Fuck. Now he’s said it, there’s no going back.

“Who?” His best friend does little to mask the elation, Matteo meeting someone seems unlikely at best, how would he? With the way he shuts himself off and sulks around, who falls for someone like that?

Matteo sinks, it’s too fast. What could he say, _Oh, before we get to that, I’m-_ he can’t even let the thought finish, he can’t imagine how it would sound coming through his lips. He should’ve practiced, “Well, I don’t know.” He shrugs, puts too much attention on his food, “I might be making it up.”

Jonas elbows him, tries to keep upbeat, “Bring her around the next party, bro, we can feel up the mood!”

Matteo’s mouth tastes like bile when he says, “It’s not a girl.”

He has to put his food away, feels nauseous for real now, his stomach twisted because this is it, it’s out there, Jonas is free to look at him with shock and disgust, remind Matteo that he’s basically a predator for all the times they’d slept in the same bed or changed together.

He hadn’t even realized he’d screwed his face up tight, bracing himself from impact, until it comes in the form of a disbelieving chuckle on Jonas’ end, “Okay, you could’ve said something, we’ve all been trying to set you up for months.” Matteo can’t help his look of surprise.

“That’s it?” It can’t be. He’s disgusting, a creep, it’s not _right_ he-

“Yeah! I mean, Hans probably knows someone, or at least it would’ve saved some girls for us.” He laughs like something’s funny and there are tears in Matteo’s eyes because he doesn’t _get_ how this is okay, how he’s not evil for it. Jonas catches on, “It’s not a big deal man, I’m glad you told me.”

The silence settles on heavy, Matteo looks up to the sky, to clear his tears and make sure the world isn’t ending. He doesn’t say anything.

“This guy you met, do I know him?” Jonas is being careful now, does how to keep Matteo off the edge of a downswing, he’s practiced, and Matteo feels like he’s the weight of the world and Jonas is Atlas, dutifully keeping it up no matter how it ages him.

“No. I met him randomly.” He’d like to see David now, he thinks, sit in his car when it’s dark and quiet and let his voice get him high. He should feel good, Jonas sounds happy for him, but it feels performative, or, he has a dark heavy voice in his head that _says_ it is.

Jonas lets that silence sit, stares at Matteo and reads him like a book, “It’d be cool to meet him. I can let him know what’ll happen if he messes with my brudi.” He catches Matteo in a headlock, knows it’ll break the tension, and doesn’t let go until Matteo is laughing and fighting back.

“You want to meet him?” Matteo asks because he needs to, has to give the out every time.

“Ja! I’m seriously happy for you, man.” Jonas almost sounds hurt; it’s so genuine Matteo’s chest aches. “How long has it been?”

Now, Matteo goes red, smiles all shy, “Actually, I only met him a couple days ago but... I don’t know, it’s been really beautiful with him.”

Jonas grins, ruffles his hair, and Matteo’s face burns, “You’re a damn romantic. I didn’t see that coming.” He sounds happy when he says it so Matteo just bunches his shoulders up, let’s it feel good, even just for the moment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for sticking w me through this fic so far! ill try to get a longer chapter out next!


	5. chapter five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it really gay if all ur conversations don't happen at night
> 
> all jokes ASIDE i wanted to say that, I'm cis, and if anyone has anything to say about the way i wrote this chapter PLEASE dont be afraid to say it, i didn't want to gloss over this moment in the fic, and i didn't want to make it an 'obstabcle' and i did it all high so if this is offensive or inaccurate i promise i wont jump to my own defense and i Will take every opportunity to learn

It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, coming out to Jonas, but Matteo’s stomach still sinks heavy when he considers later, that he could’ve waited. At least until he knew there was even a reason to come out in the first place.

The knots had started tying in his stomach when midnight came and went and David still hadn’t messaged him. Matteo wonders, horribly, if David had finally realized that Matteo was, all around, a loser. He smokes to get out of his head and then feels sick with himself for it. David was, as far as Matteo had figured out, incredible, kind and attentive, generous, morally sound. What could Matteo provide for him? What could he give for all that he got out of the smallest moments? He’s taking his third hit from his second joint when his phone rings.

It’s David, and he doesn’t want to answer because it’s half-past two now and he doesn’t want David to think he’s always high. But then he answers, because it’s David, “Hey.”

“Hey.” David sounds like he’s smiling, Matteo relishes in it.

It goes silent and Matteo smiles against his phone, “...What’s up? You called me.”

“I did.” David doesn’t elaborate but sounds nearly nervous now, Matteo can’t complain when just sound of David breathing made his head rush like it did. “I wanted to talk to you.”

He sounds so specific, an _about something_ hanging off the end of the sentence, it’s Matteo’s turn to be nervous; he puts out his joint and moves to his bed. If David had anything close to the ideas popping up into Matteo’s head prepared, he’d want to be in bed.

“I wanted to text you, so I could sort it out properly. But it felt... it wasn’t right, I think like this is good.” David’s voice shakes a little and, oh no, Matteo can’t allow that, can’t allow something so drawing to break.

“Sure, uh, go on.” What do you say, when it’s no longer you who harbors the secret? Asking for a friend.

David doesn’t, not at first; it grows silent between them, shallow breathing barely taking over the receiver’s dull hum. Matteo yawns and it shakes David out of it, “Were you sleeping? I can let you go.”

“No.” Matteo had never... he didn’t tell people _no,_ didn’t demand anything he wanted, preferred the passenger seat in life. It made him lose his footing to do just the opposite, “I mean, I’m awake, what’s going on?”

David sighs, finally, _finally_ speaks, “I’m... uh so, most of the time, people...” David can’t seem to find what he’s looking for, breathes out hard in frustration. Matteo waits, he doesn’t mind waiting, “So, usually, boys are... just boys, and the same with girls, they’re just... girls.” David swallows, it’s loud over the microphone of his phone and Matteo closes his eyes, let’s his head swim before he realizes David’s not continuing.

“What?”

“I’m... I was- _shit_.” He gives another harsh breath, this one has a sense of finality and when David continues his voice is a little wet, scared, but determined, “Do you know what transgender means?”

Matteo isn’t expecting that, he did, heard it from Hans, but he didn’t know much, didn’t know the rights and wrongs, what he was allowed to say, “A little. Sorry.”

“That’s fine.” David’s voice is soft, a little small, Matteo wishes he was with him so he could burrow into any of the places David felt empty, give himself up to make the other whole.

“But, you’re a boy?” His question feels stupid, but he was already dealing with the whole coming out thing, it was a lot to take in at once, so he asked the stupid questions.

“Yes. I just have to try a little harder.” David sounds different, maybe’s he’s detached a bit from the situation, Matteo wouldn’t blame him for it. “I’m gonna let you go, let you process, um, text me if you feel like it.”

Matteo scrambles, “Wait.” David waits, “Do you... are you still going to teach me how to make bread?”

It’s a laugh like clouded sunshine that comes through the phone to meet him, Matteo wants to kiss his phone (thinks he might, once they’ve hung up, just once), “Sure. Goodnight, Matteo.”

“Goodnight.” David hangs up and Matteo stares at his phone, presses his lips to his screen once it’s dimmed and gone black, then gets up to relight his joint and Google search _transgender._

The next morning, he rolls over from where he had fallen asleep mid-article, and texts David.

_matteo: i’ve just run out of bread :(_

_david: you’re a dork._

_david: come over_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rt if u just fucking LOVE how much im gonna talk about hands in the next chapter, like, theyre literally making bread


	6. chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matteo had never wanted to be non-sentient yeast so badly in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant stress enough how much i lost my shit over the first two comments on the last chapter being demands for hand content thats really what being gay is!!
> 
> i think this is the longest chapter yet! my disclaimer is that i have tagged this fic no burn from the beginning

It feels a bit like coming home, to have David open the door and greet him with that sunshine smile of his. There’s nothing more, no grand display. It was nice, always easy with him.

 “Na?” David faces falls into something more nervous as he opens the door further, letting Matteo step past him and into the space. It looks different in the morning; thin linen curtains letting light slip easily into the room, too many plants to keep track of, it was cozy, Matteo took his jacket off, looked to David for direction. David took it and hung it on a hook next to his and his sister’s. Matteo liked the way it looked.

“So... bread.” Matteo’s opener coaxes a soft smile onto David’s face, his cheeks tinge with the loveliest pink Matteo’s ever seen – he imagines he looks about the same. He wants to ask, get the words out of David’s mouth that, _yes, this is a date_ but the fantasy of the way it would sound leaves him distracted too long, then David nods and starts towards the kitchen.

“Bread.” David glances back at him when Matteo follows, looks back ahead quickly, “If you have questions...”He leaves it to hang, open for Matteo to pick at.

He has one, or a hundred, somewhere between these two. Google answered most of them; the rest had nothing to do with David’s gender and a lot more to do with the stirring in Matteo’s chest whenever he saw him, like something was waking up. Who knows, maybe there was a heart in there.

“I have one.” Matteo can hear David’s breath catch while he speaks, a grin tacks itself over his mouth, “Did you know that yeast is alive?”

David pauses where he’d been busying himself with getting them aprons; he turns and drops the neck loop of one over Matteo’s head, “Ass.” He puts his own apron on and starts to tie it, Matteo watches him loop it around his back before bringing it forward to knot it in a neat little bow, practiced fingers sliding easy over the thin strands. He could watch for hours.

David’s done far before Matteo is, and catches him looking, grabs Matteo’s apron strings and starts to tie them the same way before he can so much as blink. For a split second, while he’s twisting them in the back, Matteo can’t help but notice how well David’s arms fit around him. When he pulls them forward again, he watches him tie an identical bow, doesn’t realize how close they’ve gotten until he looks up to meet David’s eyes.

“I did know. Laura told me.” He doesn’t move away, Matteo doesn’t either, there’s a hand still lingering where David had tied a knot over his stomach. Ironic. After a moment of staring too long and trying to memorize the feeling of fingertips through layers of clothing, David heaves a breath and moves away, pulls over a bowl he’d already prepared with bubbling yeast, “That’s why you put sugar in the water to activate it, so it has something to eat.”

Matteo wanders over, looks into the bowl and pulls a face at the smell, “You feed it? Isn’t that kind of messed up?”

David tilts his head, his hair flops with the motion and Matteo wants to put his fingers through it, “What do you mean?”

“It sits in a packet for its whole life, then when it finally leaves and gets its first meal it’s only so it can get baked alive in some bread?” He frowns, looks at the yeast, then back at David – sticks with David for obvious reasons.

He’s just got done reeling at seeing a smile like _that_ so close up, when David catches his hip with his hand on the tail end of his laugh, grins at Matteo like he’s the sweetest thing in the world, “It’s not sentient.”

Matteo pouts, glances at the bowl of yeast again to try keep from becoming completely useless at the way David’s hand holds onto his hip. His fingers are strong, he can tell; maybe he helps Laura with kneading, it didn’t really matter. But they’re a little unsteady, loose so Matteo can slip away if he chooses, he wants to tell David to hold him hard, don’t let go no matter what, but there’s no chill way to say that, so he keeps it to himself.

“I already set up the yeast, so now we just need to make the dough.” David pulls his hand away, Matteo slumps, wants to whine about it, doesn’t. Instead, he watches while David explains all the ingredients, adding flour slowly until they had a ball of dough, “Now, we knead it.”

He shows Matteo how by example, he’s not sure exactly what he’s meant to learn while he’s watching this. David’s definitely not new to it, he’s in only a t-shirt, so Matteo can watch the flex of his forearms, all the way down to the measured twist of his wrist, the way his fingers dig into the dough to push it out and pull it back; the experience is clear. Matteo had never wanted to be non-sentient yeast so badly in his life.

Eventually, David stops, tells Matteo to give it a try. He goes for the dough, and it sticks to his hands, David laughs, “Did you pay attention?” No. “You have to put flour on your hands so they don’t stick.” David grabs a handful of flour from the bag – is that sanitary? – and rubs it over his own hands, then covers Matteo’s hands with his own, letting the flour dust off in the process.

David’s hands on Matteo’s sends a wave over him, a desperate lack of touch catching up with him as his nerves light up with every brush of skin. David’s hands are calloused, and a stronger than Matteo had thought before, he can feel the movement of the muscles when David pulls away, gives the bread a look of disdain for being the reason. He tries kneading, but he’s awkward and can’t find a rhythm; David takes pity on his and reaches over, sides pressed, and puts his hands over Matteo’s. He laces their fingers so he can start a pattern and Matteo doesn’t watch, drunk off the feeling of the way David _moved_ , instead stares at David’s face.

That pink tinge comes back to his cheeks and when he’d guided Matteo through enough kneading to satisfy the bread, he casts his eyes at him in a sideways glance, “I don’t think you’re learning very much.” It’s teasing and light, and he drops the ball of dough into a metal bowl and covers it with a thin towel.

“No?” Matteo’s smiling now, too shy to move closer but not too shy to stare, obvious and longing, at David’s lips. They’re so close together, it wouldn’t take much. David doesn’t think so either, because his smile quiets down into something small, and he leans a little closer, looks at Matteo’s face too much, and then moves closer still, until they’re almost, almost, _almost_ -

And then David kisses him. Matteo melts into it, doesn’t have any say in the matter because, _wow_. David smiles against his lips, picks up his hands to hold Matteo’s face tight, close; probably get’s flour all over him but who the fuck _cares_. Matteo kisses back as soon as his brain kicks into gear; they kiss for forever, like they never plan to stop, maybe they didn’t, except eventually they needed to breathe.

They parted, chests heaving, and broke into laughter, kissing between giggles, “I think I’m learning enough.” Matteo says through heavy breaths, smile so wide his face might just split open.

David looks at him with something like awe, pulls back enough to fiddle with Matteo’s hair, “The bread has to rise, it takes a while.” He hums, letting his eyebrows lift suggestively, “We better find some way to kill time.” He pulls back when Matteo grins and leans in for a kiss, smiles at the resulting whine, “I hear there’s a very comfortable couch nearby.” Matteo smiles and David grabs him by his apron strings, pulling him along.

They do break from their make-out bubble long enough to preheat the oven and put in the bread. David doesn’t wait long to crowd Matteo up against the counter and kiss his neck, giving him a hickey under his collarbone before coming up to ask, “Would you like to come to my bedroom?” His fingers are dancing up the back of his shirt, pressing into the skin in a way that’s quickly turning Matteo’s knees to jelly.

“Do you mean-” Matteo’s voice catches when David finds that sensitive place under his jaw, shudders when he hums in confirmation, “ _Yes_.”

David rewards him with a kiss, and another, until he’s pulling him into his bedroom and tugging at the strings of Matteo’s apron. When the apron’s off and he starts to pull at the bottom of his sweat Matteo breaks from their kiss, sighs and puts his head against David’s shoulder. David lets them pause, is starting to get that sometimes Matteo just needs to... buffer.

Finally, he breaks the air, if only so David’s not left waiting in the silence, “I’ve never... I don’t know what to do.”

David smiles soft at him, brushes their noses together and lets his hand slid up under Matteo’s shirt to pull him close, while his other brushes gentle fingers over his cheek, “Me neither.” And he kisses him again, and Matteo lets him.

They burn the bread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes laura finds the burnt bread when she gets home and yes she makes them sandwiches with it and that she forces them to eat


	7. chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "G'morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love u all the comments on the last chapter were SO nice thank u so much
> 
> anyway u ever gay n in love?

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.  He remembers David holding him, kissing his nose and pushing sweat-matted hair off his forehead, and then he remembers waking up. At first he’s a little bitter that he can’t remember the feeling of drifting off with David, but then, as the motors in his head creak to life, he feels the press of a back against his. The skin on skin contact has his brain fuzzy, and he sighs and rubs his eyes, leaning back into it. It jostles David, who sniffles and starts to rouse.

He feels him twist around, drop an arm over Matteo’s middle and press his hand flat against his stomach, “G’morning.” His voice is gravelly and sleep heavy and Matteo wants to drown in it. He sinks back against David, snuffles a little but doesn’t reply; David relaxes against him and presses his lips to the nape of Matteo’s neck, he responds by knotting their fingers together where David’s hand rested. He thinks, briefly, an ugly thought, that he’d like to die here, so he didn’t have to move forward to the inevitable hurt of the world, and instead could rest happy, wrapped up in arms that never held him any way but tenderly.

He knows when he’s thinking too hard, and David’s starting to read the cues within the long silent stretches, “Hey.” He says, hushed and gentle like he does when Matteo’s worrying him; it makes him feel like dissolving, “How are you feeling?”

Matteo hates that question. Can remember too vividly its ugly taste when he couldn’t get his mother out of bed, he doesn’t want to be – can’t let himself be – that person to David. He refuses to let his dark shatter that bright, bright, light. He tries to refocus, think of where he is, why he’s there, and forces a small smile (he read once that it released endorphins, he doesn’t buy it, but he’ll try), “Warm.” David starts to peel back, thinks it’s a complaint, so Matteo holds tighter to his hand and pulls him close again, “Good warm.”

He can feel David smiling against his skin, so he focuses on that until he’s buzzing with it, turns around and his smile is more real when he’s pulled close enough to let him burrow into David’s shoulder, “That’s good.” He sounds pleased, maybe a little fuzzy himself; Matteo kisses the skin under his lips, “Hungry?” Matteo’s eyes go wide suddenly, he bumps his forehead against David’s chin roughly when he jolts up.

“The bread!” They had gotten too distracted, never returned to their task; how had they not burned the whole building down?

David smiles at him, a little too fond, “It's fine. I remembered after you fell asleep.” He’s not upset, but embarrassment still swirls around Matteo’s insides, looks for a place to stick, “We did burn it.” A place. The heavy ooze of ‘this is my fault’ lined the space. David kisses his frown and it thins out a bit.

“I’m sorry.”

David shushes him, pushes on his shoulder until Matteo is on his back, and climbs up over him so Matteo can feel the weight of him; it’s nice. David kisses him, slow and lazy until it’s neither of those things, but he parts before it goes any further, smiling devilishly against Matteo’s mouth, “I’m not.”

Matteo can’t help the whine he makes, reaching up for another kiss, it’s given to him and he melts into the pillows behind him, let’s it make him feel good.

They’re coming down from the adrenaline of kissing one another when Matteo’s fingers, skimming the length of David’s back and shoulders, dip quickly, nervously, under the very edge of David’s binder; afraid to overstep, “I have one question.” It’s so faint it’s hardly a whisper, but David hears, nods for him to continue and avoids his eyes, “How did you know?” He thinks it’s a bad question, crumbles with it, “Sorry.”

“What for?” David knocks his knuckles against Matteo’s cheek, it’s more soothing than it should be, “I think I’ve always known.” He doesn’t elaborate. Matteo nods; he gets it. After a moment of quiet David sits up and off him, pushes his hands through Matteo’s hair and smiles, “Let’s go have breakfast.”

They shuffle out of bed and Matteo digs around for his sweater, David catches his attention but pulling him to stand up and putting his own sweater over Matteo’s head; he kisses his nose once it peaks through and calls him _my darling boy_ and Matteo thinks it’s so unfair. It’s so unfair that David can give him so many little moments that’s there’s too many to choose to live over and over in his head.

In the kitchen, the first thing they see is their bread, a little black and... and it’s been cut; in the fridge sits two char-rimmed sandwiches, and a note from Laura, _morning lovebirds, we are not wasting this bread._

They take the sandwiches and sit, Matteo half curled in David’s lap, on the couch to eat them. It’s the best damn sandwich Matteo’s ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told u laura was gonna make them eat that bread


	8. chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was the deal with these things, wasn’t it? You bore your soul to see if they still wanted it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i love matteo so much he's my precious little gremlin  
> also me: if i have to be sad so does he

When Matteo was young, he absolutely _adored_ the swings. He would beg to be pushed until he was swinging so high it felt like flying, he’d close his eyes and tilt his head back and let the air carry him. Except... eventually, he’d look down, and the ground would look so far away all he could do was wait in horror to fall. Sometimes he’d get so scared he’d make himself hit the ground, as though it hurt less to scrape his knees because he decided to than if he had left it up to chance.

This is what he’s thinking about when he drives home from David’s, and he thinks he can still feel the white-hot burn of his knees when he collapses into bed. He can’t quite tell, if he jumped or if he fell, but he’s tired, shit, he’s so _damn_ tired.

It’s hard to fall asleep when the bed feels so empty so he slips out of his room when he’s certain the rest of the flat is asleep. He doesn’t go into the kitchen, nothing in there would satisfy his craving for a burnt bread sandwich, and instead heads for the living room, so he can curl up on the couch. It’s strange to sit out here when the air is so still; even at the absence of guests, Hans was usually making a flurry of the place. It made him feel young, like a kid sneaking out of bed because of a nightmare. 

It’s four in the morning, too late to sleep but too early to wake up, he wonders who else is awake in Berlin - gets an answer when his phone buzzes in his bedroom. He shuffles to his room and can’t help the small smile that ghosts over his weighted expression.

_david: miss you_

_matteo: me too_

He hopes, in some darker part of him, that David won’t answer, and he’ll be able to stew a little longer over the thick loneliness in his gut, but he does. Of course he does.

_david: youre not worried this is going too fast?_

It is too fast, Matteo knows it, he hasn’t even come out to his friends past Jonas, but he likes fast. He shouldn’t, but he does. Loves sharp corners on white-knuckled rides, the thrill when it’s over and you’re still alive. He starts to type _no_ when it hits him, hard and sudden, that he isn’t entirely sure David’s truly asking for his sake.

_matteo: are you?_

_david: i asked first_

_matteo: i’m not_

_david: me neither_

His lips quirk to the side, a smile held back, it’d be too loud for the air right now. He locks his phone and puts it in his pocket, shuffles back to his bedroom and drops onto his bed before he pulls his phone out again, and calls David.

“Hey.” David sounds tired, and Matteo stomach pangs with guilt over it.

“Hi.” What to say? He never seemed to be able to answer that question. “Were you going to sleep?”

“No.” There’s a shuffle on the other end, he imagines David sitting up, trying to pretend they both didn’t know he was lying.

“You were.” Matteo was too deep in his shadows to let the lie stay untouched.

David soothes over his wounds easy, “I’d rather talk to you.” Matteo smiles into the words, rests more comfortable against his pillows.

“I can’t sleep.” He wants to say _me too_ , let them drift into soft whispers; but he’s not good, he’s jumping off the swing.

“Wanna talk about it?” David’s voice is light and easy, ready to catch him.

“Not really.” The gravel hits.

“A drive then?” Like it’s that simple, Matteo didn’t want to talk so they’d just be together instead.

“That would be nice.”

David comes to pick him up, meets Matteo at the door and pulls him into a hug. Matteo collapses into it, takes a heavy shuddering breath and lets it even out when David kisses his temple. They get in the car, David has music playing, soft and low, and he holds Matteo’s hand while he drives. “Tell me, baby.”

Matteo knows what he means, squeezes his hand a little tighter because that was the deal with these things, wasn’t it? You bore your soul to see if they still wanted it? The slam of his front door when his father left told him it was a high stakes gamble, all or nothing. He didn’t know how to explain that to David, knows that he has to, “I’m always tired.” It’s bad, a stupid shitty way to start, especially when he didn’t know how to continue.

David smiles at him, a little sad, and lifts their hands to press a kiss to Matteo’s knuckles, “I noticed.”

“And I smoke too much.”

“Okay.”

“I never clean my room when I should. And sometimes I leave mugs for so long there’s mold in them.” He wants to check his knees for blood; it feels like part of him has opened, an old wound turned fresh again. Those were the worst kind.

“That’s okay.”

David’s voice is soft, soft, but Matteo can’t stop now, “Sometimes when I’m angry I throw things, or yell, and I don’t like talking too much, and my friends don’t know I’m gay.” His voice catches, it’s David’s turn to squeeze his hand, he gets it, “And I always say the wrong thing. Even if I know all the rules.”

“Matteo.” David shushes him, he slumps back against the seat of the car, he hadn’t even realized how tense he’d gotten, “It’s okay.”

“I’m a handful.”

David steals a look over at him, smiles and it’s so beautiful Matteo might just cry, “I’ve got two hands.”

Matteo smiles, can’t help but let it stretch over his face until his eyes scrunch, “You stole that off the internet.”

“That doesn’t make it less true!” David is sharp as a whip at the defense, playful even when he was dragging himself around at nearly five in the morning so Matteo can sleep. “Have you ever... thought about, like, talking to someone?” His voice has gone careful quickly, pulling up to a 24/7 gas station.

Matteo swallows thickly and doesn't answer, follows when David tells him to, and they go inside. They shuffle down the chip aisle to the back where the slushie machines churned, Matteo has to squint against the way the whole building glowed fluorescent, but dutifully copied David in filling a plastic cup with unnaturally blue slush. They shuffle up to the counters and Matteo blinks twice when he realizes it’s Laura at the counter.

“What are you two doing up?” Her voice is nice, soft and comfortable.

David shrugs, puts an arm around Matteo’s shoulders and holds him tighter when he sinks into it, “Just going for a drive, realized I was craving one of these.” He holds the cup up, Matteo copies him, but his footsteps jar when David steers them towards the door.

“We’re not paying?”

Laura overhears him and scoffs, “That freeloader? They’re on me.” She waves them off, and Matteo barely gets out a thanks before David’s herding him out the door.

“She’s nice.” David sits up on the hood of his car – they’re parked around the corner of the building, not even Laura could see them – and lays back against the hood, Matteo follows.

“She’s pretty great.” He traces lazily over the patter over Matteo’s sweater, touch light over the curve of his shoulder. “It’s good having someone like that.” It sounds like he’s trying to lead to something, and Matteo takes a sip of his slushie, tries to think about how it was just on the border of too sweet instead of how small he’d made his world for himself.

“I’m glad you have her.” He is, fully and entirely, he wants nothing more than to see David happy.

“Do you have someone like that?”

“Jonas.” He smiles a little, David catches it.

“He’s your friend?” Matteo nods, “I’d like to meet him sometime.”

It would be nice, he thinks, but he can’t help a small nagging – that it would be a lot nicer if Carlos and Abdi were there too. “I need to come out to my friends.”

David kisses his forehead, his lips are cold, “You want to?” Matteo nods, “You’re very brave.”

Matteo doesn’t think he is, he thinks he’s very much the opposite. But he lets himself ride the wave of David’s belief and texts _ok.cool_ when he gets home to see if the boys wanted to come over for drinks that night. He feels a little better when he falls asleep, skin still warm from all the places David had touched him, and thinks that maybe he wouldn’t even chicken out this time. For once he hopes, just that everything will be alright, and sleeps until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took me quite a few tries, and i actually ended up baring a lot of myself in it so please be gentle!


	9. chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> like playing tennis with a boner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know what this fic is about like,, being gay? i guess

Matteo sleeps all the way into the afternoon, wakes up feeling better after seeing the boys were all free. He cleans his room and feels a little like he used to when he was getting ready for exams, back before he became an unemployed freeloader whose dad paid his rent. It’s stomach knots, and sweaty palms, and a racing heart. So he sends David a voice message, too shaky to text, too nervous to call, “Hey, boys are coming over soon, I’ll call when they leave.”

David sends one back and his voice is calming, “I’m proud of you.”

Jonas arrives first; Matteo’s already told him a bit about David, and his reason for inviting everyone over, so he shares a beer with Matteo to help him relax. “So are things like... are you official?” It’s so tacky and _so_ Jonas that Matteo can’t help but laugh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Official?” He’s mocking him, but Jonas takes it in stride, shoving Matteo’s shoulder, “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.”

He teases Matteo about it like it’s his instinct, and Matteo’s laughing and rolling his eyes when the bell rings. Abdi and Carlos get there at the same time, and that aggressively homosexual part of his brain makes a suggestion, he could see it sometimes. The two of them, it was strange, how close and caring they were to each other while they chased girls around like animals.

They sit down on the couch opposite Jonas and Matteo, and Carlos’ arm swings over the back of the couch while he finishes up giving Abdi what is surely a second-hand lecture about feminism from Kiki. Matteo’s not sure he entirely got the point of it, “- so it’s like, women can do anything men can do, except they can do it when they have like, their periods. So they’re better.”

“Like Serena Williams?” Jonas has decided to dip his toe in the conversation, Matteo can’t quite understand the appeal; the two of them talking out politics was like a car crash – cool to watch, but not something you’d want to join.

“Serena Williams?” Abdi’s been confused since they’d all sat down, it wasn’t hard to guess that’d he’d been pretty confused before that.

“She’s a women tennis player, that’s not something men can do.” Carlos frowns, trying to think of his own example, Matteo imagines a little hamster in his head, running as fast as he can but barely getting the light bulb to buzz. He snorts.

Jonas, on the other hand, is already invested, “No, man! She won a big competition while she was pregnant or something.”

Understanding dawns on Abdi’s face, Matteo has the distinct impression that he’s not understanding, “So it’s like how a guy could never win with a boner!”

There’s a collective groan, Matteo and Jonas are mostly laughing, Carlos looks like a failed teacher, “I don’t think that’s right, brudi.” He pulls out his phone, Jonas is across the room and snatching it from his hands before he can call Kiki and ask.

“I think...” Matteo trails off when attention goes to him, like, yeah, that’s what’s supposed to happen when you talk to someone but that doesn’t mean he wants it, “I think she just meant that, like, guys should stop comparing what girls can do to what guys can do... like it doesn’t really matter, they’re good on their own. They can handle things.” It feels like a speech and his face heats up, but Jonas snaps his fingers in his direction and gives the others a pointed look.

“At least one of us can use their brain.” He drops Carlos’ phone back in his lap and grabs two more beers, passes one to Matteo and clinks them together. A second beer is tempting, but he wants a level head. So instead he sits up more, clears his throat a little and tries to convince himself he doesn’t notice how alert Jonas has gotten.

“So...” He doesn’t continue, isn’t sure how, and their room falls silent in waiting, so he has to, “I’ve been... so there’s this thing- um. Did any of you ever meet a guy named David? He went to our school.” There’s a slow collective shaking of heads, which kills his segue and he groans, head knocking back onto the couch, “I hit him with my car the other night.” He snorts against the respond exclamations of worry, “I mean, I hit his car, and it was in the drive-thru, so it’s not a big deal, but, that’s who I hit. David from school.” He smiles a little when he says his name, and Jonas nudges him with his foot, Carlos is looking a little like he’s starting to get it, probably because of all the Gay Pride stuff Kiki’s always preaching.

“He’s not gonna get you in trouble or anything?” Matteo chuckles, shakes his head, “So, you just hit his car? That’s it?” Abdi almost sounds disappointed, he wanted a story, Matteo rolled his eyes and decided to give him one.

“I went on a date with him. The other day.” It’s hard to look right into the silence but he does, sees Carlos and Abdi smiling just as wickedly as Jonas, thrilled.

“A date?” Abdi’s voice is a little higher than usual, wide smile, “So you’re gay?”

He nods, Jonas claps his shoulder and Carlos hops up to give him a fist bump, “Congrats, dude!”

Matteo accepts the fist bump and laughs, a little incredulous, “Congrats on being gay?”

“Yeah! Cheers!” He clinks their beers together, Matteo drinks with him.

He tells the boys about David, gets embarrassingly sappy and lovesick the more he drinks; starts to blush and show them pictures, tell them how beautiful it is to be with him because it _really_ is. More than beautiful.

When the boys all decide to call it a night and start their stumbling walk out, Carlos gives him a hug, and Abdi says he’s happy for him, and Matteo is buzzing and warm and can’t pull his phone out fast enough when the door is shut and the lock turned.

David picks up on the third ring; it’s later than Matteo realized, “Hey. How’d it go.” He smiles, falls onto the couch and buries his face against the cushion.

“Good. Really good.” He lifts his head back up, stares at the blank wall dreamily, “They can’t wait to meet you, if you still want to.”

“Course I do.” He can hear David moving around, eventually the jingle of keys.

“I’m drunk.”

“That’s nice, darling. Feel good?” Matteo hums the affirmative, he can hear David’s front door shut, too heavy to be quiet even when Laura’s asleep between shifts, “I’m coming over, sound good?”

“Very.”

David kisses him hard when he gets there, pushes Matteo inside until he shows him where his room is.

It’s a good night.


	10. chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> matteo talks to someone he trusts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i miss amira ;______;
> 
> sorry this took so long ive been depressed lmao

The next time Matteo wakes up alone, he and David separated but some prior commitment, he feels heavy when he wakes up and realizes he needs more clarity. About what was going on with him, about what he could do about it.

He can’t talk to the boys. He loves them, and they’re always there for him, but sometimes they get so turned around talking about things that he’s more confused than when he started. And he doesn’t want to ask David, he can’t block out that wretched voice that tells him what a burden he’d be on him for it; he can’t bring himself to be anything but his best for David. So he thinks, and eventually, his thumb hovers over the send message to the person he knows he can trust with this, the person who will help him without making him wade through vague ideas and coded theories, or weigh him down of promises of affection when he feels like he should be punished. Just straight talk.

_matteo: hey, wanna get coffee or something?_

He thinks he’s going to have to wait, that it might take a few hours for the reply to trickle in, but it doesn’t, and it kinda feels like a sign that he made the right choice.

_amira: sure, i can meet in two hours?_

_matteo: cool_

She’s already waiting when he gets there, and he gives her a fist bump before he slumps down into the armchair across from her. “Sup?”

“Hey.” She’s typing away at her phone, but her voice is kind, and she puts it away after a moment and apologizes. Matteo can’t fathom a reason she would need to apologize for putting something before him; they weren’t even that close. “What have you been up to?”

He blushes, thoughts of David instantly surfacing, and the glint in Amira’s eye says she caught it, but doesn’t want to ask. She’s good in that way, reads people well, but only the pages they show her, “I... I have a boyfriend.”

She smiles – no, beams – and nods, “What’s his name?”

“David.” He didn’t mean for it to, but it comes out as a sigh, something tacky like _longing_ on his tone.

“Is he nice?” The question almost takes him off guard, makes him think that Amira sees more than he thought if it’s her second question. Sometimes he only takes what he’s given, even if it’s bad, and he’s grateful for it.

He thinks about the question, how foolish it sounds on the topic of David, and ducks his head, “Very.” He hasn’t forgotten his manners, so he sticks his chin in her direction, “And you?” Her cheeks flush, and he’s taken back, “You’ve met someone as well?”

She shakes her head, quick to dismiss it, “It’s nothing, really.” She sounds stubborn about it, but there’s a _yet_ hanging in the air and she hides her grin poorly. “We didn’t meet to talk about nothing, and that’s exactly what that is. What’ve you been up with since school ended?”

The question makes his stomach sink and he slumps down a little further, “Thought we weren’t here to talk about nothing?” It comes out a little more bitter than he intended, and Amira frowns at him.

“Nothing?” He shakes his head, “Is there anything you want to do?” He shrugs, she sits back. “How come?”

How should he know? “I’m just tired, I guess.” Her frown deepens so he thinks that might’ve been the wrong answer. Tries again, “It’s kinda... you’re the only person I could think of to ask what you think might be... wrong. With me.”

She puts a hand on the table and looks at him kindly, he can’t meet her eyes, “I’m really touched you’d reach out to me, Matteo; but I think maybe this conversation is better for a doctor?” Her voice is warm, he doesn’t feel judged, but it doesn’t stop the way it claws across the bottom of his stomach and pulls up his ugliest feelings.

He’s only known one person who’s gone to a doctor because they couldn’t live like anyone else. And he loves her dearly, cherishes every moment with her no matter how difficult; but it’s not easy to accept that he might be the same way, and that the dark part of his might swallow him up so deep everyone will run away and it grant him a reprise until it’s too late and he’s alone, just like his mother. He swallows thickly, shakes his head, “I don’t wanna...” He lets his sentence die, wasn’t sure where it was going anyway.

Amira seems to get it, pulls her hand back and looks out the window, thoughtful, before nodding to herself. A decision made. “There are other ways to manage symptoms. Maybe it’d be better to start with some reading? There’s a library nearby and I happen to know someone who _kills_ it as your study partner.” She’s smiling and he can’t help but let the corner of his mouth crook up with his nod.

They go to the library and read. Like really read, for a couple of hours because Amira’s strict and unforgiving when he falls off task, it’s good for him. They don’t talk much, she gives him the kind of space he needs, and eventually they decide on a few resources for him to check out, take advantage of the books’ return date as a deadline for him to complete two tasks:

  1. Establish one routine, one thing he does every day without exception.
  2. Find a creative interest.



She writes the list, but listens carefully at his thoughts on what he’s able to get done. Before they part ways he gives her a quick hug and thanks her and she pulls him back in, letting him hang on a little. It’s the kind of hug Jonas gives, it’s a good kind.

He’s so tired when he finally leaves that he bikes to David’s without thinking (he’d been avoiding driving a bit recently), it’s not late, but it’s past dinner time, and David looks surprised to see him, a little worried. Matteo realizes he hadn’t checked his phone all day.

“Hey.” He pulls Matteo into a hug thoughtlessly, pulling him inside; Matteo sinks into it, “Where were you today? I texted you.”

Matteo mumbles an apology against his shoulder, says he was with a friend, and David kisses his temple, “Do you want me to go?” He asks because he showed up unannounced, and he doesn’t know if that’s allowed.

“Of course not.” David almost sounds like Matteo’s offended him, it’s comforting in the strangest way. He pulls back and Matteo wants to grab at him, hold him so close they can’t ever part again, and holds Matteo’s face, hand’s cupped around his jaw tenderly, like he can’t bear using even an inch of force, “Is everything okay?”

 _No,_ Matteo thinks, _I think I’m broken, and I don’t want to cut you on the jagged pieces_ , instead, he says, “Can we make some bread?”

David’s face goes soft, and he smiles softly when he leans in to peck Matteo’s nose, “Let’s not burn it this time.”

They don’t. And Matteo thinks, struck suddenly with it while they’re cutting the first slice, that he might want to check out if there are any cooking classes in the area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whos ready for matteo to fuckingg get BETTER
> 
> ***EDIT*** hello! i forgot to put this in the note when i last updated but im going to be on vacation for a week and i wont be posting until im back!


	11. chapter eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the rats name is remy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will there be more updates? who can say!
> 
> in all realness this fic IS something i cling very closely to and even tho i didn't write it out I have been imagining the story line in real time alongside my own life and I thought u all might appreciate if I popped in and shared how things are going for our favorite boys!
> 
> as always, this was written high and Not Edited, read at ur own risk askhfsld

“School?” David sounds surprised, not in a bad way, and honestly Matteo is too. Fuck, a few weeks ago it was a wonder if he got out of bed at all.

 

He sinks in a little further where he’s curled tight to David’s side, “Dunno, maybe. I like the classes, it could be fun.” He shrugs, tries not to give too much of himself away and fails miserably because it’s David and he can see right through him by now.

 

It’s been months, and that stupid tangle of feelings he got when he looked at him wasn’t wearing off any time soon. The summer had been every bit as cheesy and romantic as someone like him can ask for, stuffed full of late night drives and midnight snacks that always took too long to prepare because Matteo had learned something new that week and David  _ had _ to try it.

 

The cooking classes were so much more than he expected they could be for him. After meeting with Amira, Matteo started looking for classes, then kept looking for a week or two, until David caught him looking at the page on his phone and convinced him to actually go and try one out. He was hooked immediately, there was nothing like making something that someone else could enjoy; it felt like he was doing something worth doing. And so, as the weather cooled off, and people settled in with their lives until the holidays hit, he realized he wanted to do something with himself. So he looked up schools, and found one nearby with a decent culinary program.

 

David pulled him out of his thoughts with a kiss and grinned at him, “It sounds really cool, you’d be great at it.” It makes him blush enough that David kissed him again, not that that’s ever done anything to cool him off before.

 

“I think if I send in an application soon, maybe start in the spring.” He fidgets, finding a loose string on the collar of David’s sweatshirt and tugging at it, “Might be cool if I wasn’t such a bum all the time.”

 

“Hey,” David frowns and cuffs him lightly under the chin, “You’re not a bum.”

 

Matteo rolls his eyes, he’s never going to get used to the coddling, and slumps closer where he’s cuddled up with David on the couch, getting in a movie night alone while Laura’s out with her friends, “I’m seeing the boys tomorrow, gonna tell them about it.”

 

David rubs his hand over Matteo’s side and pulls him closer, “Careful, Carlos might send Kiki after you.” Matteo groans at the thought and David laughs and kisses against his hairline.

 

“But you think it’s a good idea?” He wants to ask,  _ do you think I could do it? _ but he doesn’t, somehow David hears him anyway.

 

“I do.”

 

They watch the rest of the movie quietly, something David had to watch for film school, Matteo doesn’t pay much attention to it, more interested in turning his head up to watch David watch the movie - the way emotions flew over his face as he followed the story was something a camera could never hope to catch.

 

When the movie finished Matteo stands and stretches, goes off to use the bathroom and when he comes back David says, “A la Luigi.”

 

“What?”

 

“One day, you’re gonna open your own restaurant, that’s a good name for it.” He always says these things with so much confidence, like it’s inevitable that their lives are going to turn out okay. He didn’t always sound like that, when they first met he was more hesitant; Matteo’s not really sure how  _ he _ of all people could someone into an optimist.

 

He slumps back down on the couch and falls into David’s side when he tugs his shirt, “You think so?”

 

“You don’t like it?” David’s teasing him, leans back enough for Matteo to see his smile just so he’s sure.

 

“I do, it’s cool.” He stares at the blank screen of the television for a minute, tries to imagine what that would be like, “You think I’ll open my own restaurant? That’d be... “ He mulls over a few options,  _ impossible, unrealistic, out of character. _

 

_ Incredible. _ “A lot of work.”

 

“The hard stuff is always the most worth it.” He tells him; it makes Matteo think of what it felt like to tell Jonas about David, or to ask Amira if she thought he could still be fixed, and realizes David’s absolutely right.

 

“It is a good name.” He turns it around in his brain for a moment, imagines himself making food for people to enjoy every day - goes out on a limb and imagines them  _ really _ enjoying it, coming from all over just to eat something  _ a la Luigi  _ \- and smiles; it’s a really good name.

 

The next day he paces his room - he’d cleaned it, and managed to keep it that way, not to brag, but, there was an actual floor now - while he waited for the boys to come over. It was stupid, they were just hanging out, it’s not like they were ever anything but supportive of one another; it was just so easy to let his palms sweat and his stomach turn while he fills his own head up with  _ what if _ ’s.

 

He’s mulling over made up worries when the buzzer rings, and shakes himself out of it long enough to let Abdi in; they’re settled in the living room, Matteo only half paying attention to idle conversation when Abdi speaks up enough to really get his attention, “You alright?” Matteo hums an affirmation and Abdi frowns, “You seem distracted, brudi.”

 

“Sorry.” Matteo shakes his head, blinks a couple times and looks at his friend, “I’ve been thinking about going to uni, for cooking.” He waits, doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, because he’s not sure what harm Abdi could ever be capable of, and breathes out when Abdi’s face lights up in a smile like a spotlight.

 

“Cool!” He pats Matteo on the shoulder, grinning wide, “When you graduate do they give you one of those tall hats?”

 

Matteo’s face scrunches up at the words, “What?”

 

“You know, the tall white hat all the chefs wear?”

 

Matteo laughs, tries to imagine himself in one of the hats Abdi is describing; he’d look ridiculous, “I sure hope so, brudi, I have no idea where to buy one.”

 

Carlos and Jonas arrive close together, as soon as he tells them about school Carlos insists he needs to get a pet rat, just to name it  _ Ratatouille.  _ Jonas firmly reminds them, more than once, that his name is  _ Remy _ and that ratatouille is the name of the  _ dish _ . They find themselves in the kitchen no less than two beers later, trying to make ratatouille with nothing more to guide them than the movie, and Matteo wonders why in the hell he was worried about their reaction when saying they possessed a single brain cell each would be generous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry again to anyone who loved this fic only for it to be abandoned so abruptly and i know this is very short but it's all i had in me - i really hope i find the motivation to write more because the people who followed the story when it being actively updated were some of the kindest and most generous commenters i've ever had <3

**Author's Note:**

> if u liked it please leave kudos or a comment! they mean the world to me!


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